FIERCE

FIERCE AS FUCK

It wasn’t long ago that I needed a wheelchair and a walking stick to get about. I suffer from Lyme Disease but I am currently in remission – for the third time. This time around, it’s the longest I’ve felt well enough to function past basic since I was bitten by that tick.

When you suddenly become chronically ill (or chronically awesome, as it will be known from here on in) life gets hard. Tough. Mentally exhausting. The one thing you want for on a daily basis is to be well again. Some people are lucky enough to find something that works for them. Some are not. I changed my entire life and lifestyle to start getting my functions back. It was a long, hard slog. I’m not gonna lie, it was pretty fucking brutal.

BUT DID YOU DIE THOUGH?

No, I didn’t die. Although there were several occasions that I honestly thought…

I. Might. Actually. Die.

My body was shutting down. Some days I couldn’t even lift my head from the pillow. Other days, I managed to get down the stairs but then didn’t have the ability to get back up them! No matter how I was feeling, there was always that one thing I wanted. I wanted to be WELL.

Just some kind of well, any kind really. I didn’t care. I wanted to sit in the sunshine. I was determined to read a book. Do day to day shit. I would be well again. Nothing was stopping me. I researched treatments, home remedies, supplements, diets and lifestyles. I tried loads of them. Eventually I found a combination of all of them. It was actually starting to work for me. We even moved away from the City into the middle of butt-fuck nowhere countryside. Just to see if it would make a difference.

Then a miracle happened. I found myself needing my walking stick less. I found myself able to walk a bit further. Do things for a little bit longer. DO STUFF! Boring. Shit. Stuff. (Like changing the bedding – without needing to sleep for 4 hours after)

HOLY FUCK!

You only realise how amazing “stuff” actually is when you’re not able to do it. Boy, was I always determined that I was going to do it. Never once did I question it. I just put every single ounce of faith I could muster and placed it on the fact that I would be well again.

A WHOLE YEAR ON…

Enough about the old me, she’s gone now. The fierce remains though. That sheer determination. That streak of sheer fucking awesome. The girl in the mirror who shouts back at me “YOU FUCKING GOT THIS” every single morning.

I do, I have, I will, I am

After a year of pushing limits, stretching boundaries and teaching my body how to do stuff again I felt I was at a point where I could join the gym. I was able to do more stuff now, I needed to get stronger again. My body was a jelly mess and had been drained so badly. I needed some help. The next bit was something I couldn’t do on my own. I needed to be shown how to make my body healthy again. I’d not actually ever been to a gym properly before. I’d always given up when the going got tough. Not this time…

That was just over a month ago. I set myself some realistic goals of how much I wanted to be able to do. There was just one problem. They were too easy.

I dropped a dress size (actually I dropped 2 and I am now smaller than I have been in 17 years!)

I lost 6″ from my waist – I only wanted to lose 4″

I lost 3lbs (but turned a fuckload of fat into muscle again)

I ran on a treadmill (and smashed it every day – I ran until my knees were bruised and I had to stop) Turns out I love to run, who knew?

Created a proper workout – smashed that daily too

I needed something a bit more unrealistic. Something that would make me feel like I was smashing it. Something I could fail at. Something to make me work harder. Something to work towards. Something to make me try harder. Something to test me. Something to break me. Something to shape me. Something that would MAKE ME!